Burn
by lilanimefan1
Summary: Hecter gets sunburned, so pain is an everyday thing for the next few days. But, Mayor Spryman has to endour pain for much longer than that, for a burner had left her mark on him from his waist to his neck. Just trying this out.
1. Chapter 1

Burn

_**Yea, I'm writing this 'cause I have a sunburn at the moment. So, right. That, and I just read one of my fav stories, so I wanted to write one of my own Spryman fics. So, flames are tolerated. (But, praise is nice too!)**_

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Hecter was burnt. No, burn**_ing_**. Jeese, you'd think that once you got burned a **_little, _**you'd get out of the sun or put on some more sunscreen. But, Hecter wasn't paying attention to "minor details", like his skin. He was too absorbed in his basketball game. He was only down by two points, and he was **_so _**not going to let these punks win. His sweat ran down his burnt cheeks. He roughly brushed it aside. He stole the ball and made the shot. **_Swish._** The ball fell neatly through the net. And just in time. Hecter whooped as the little cooking timer went off. He scored the winning three-pointer! His mother walked out in time to see, and she was happy to see that her son had won. But, she gasped when she saw his boiled lobster red skin (lobsters are either blue or green before they're cooked, so to me this made more sense. Just a little fun fact for you.). "Hecter!" she screamed. "Come inside right now!"

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Mayor Spryman lay his head on his desk and moaned. 'Why did he have to stay out so looong!' He pored some aloe vere onto the back of his neck and rubbed it in. "Ow," he moaned.

"Hecter's first burn." Spryman looked up wearily to see his police chief walk in with two deputies and a fugitive behind him. The chief's face was red as well. "You'll just have to fight through it little man." Spryman glared at him.

"Do you **_want_** snot duty," he hissed. The chief put his hands up in a halfhearted defense.

"Cool it! We caught one of the burners." He pointed to the female fugitive behind him.

"My **_name _**is Burn!" Her skin was red, and her long red hair was pulled into a frail ponytail. She was wearing a tight t-shirt and baggy black pants. She was also barefoot, and had burning blue eyes that seemed to hold Spryman in place as she continued to glare at him.

'She's... **_cute_**." He thought.

"Besides, you only caught me 'cause of dumb luck," she spat, waking up Spryman. The chief looked back and glared at her.

"If it was 'dumb luck', then how did we catch you?" She twitched at the remark. Instead of replying, she easily shook off her holders and lunged at the chief. She landed neatly on top of him, and proceeded to bite him on the shoulder. The chief yelled in agony and ripped her off of him. He flung her towards Spryman ("By accident," he later stated), who jumped under his desk to avoid her. The chief looked at his shoulder to see two very large third degree burns there. Spryman looked over his burnt shoulder to see Burn laying limp in his chair.

'Evil **_and _**cute. Perfect combination,' he thought sarcastically. She raised her head and locked her gaze into his. He watched as she melted the hand cuffs on her wrists. Spryman could barely even breath, let alone move. Burn slipped down out of the chair and started towards him. 'Move, you idiot, move!' His brain screamed at him, but his body wouldn't, couldn't, respond. His breathing came in ragged gasps, as though he had run a long distance in a short amount of time. She crawled over him until their faces weren't an inch apart, and her hands were on either side of him. She held his gaze for what seemed to be hours, until she moved to the left of him and whispered in his ear,

"Where's the chief now?" Now that her hypnotic eyes had left his, Spryman was able to control his body once more. He tried to move under her, but she firmly planted her claws into his torso. It felt as though she had just set him on fire. But, he didn't give her the satisfactory of seeing the pain on his face. He tried to even out his breathing so the pain spreading through his body like wildfire would be less intense. Burn had other plans. Grabbing both of his hands in a matter of agonizing seconds, she held his arms under him and began to drag her other hand slowly up to his neck. She smiled evilly, showing four large fangs, and bent over to whisper to him once again. "Enjoy the pain, I'll be back!" She jerked her hand out of his chest and let his arms go. Before he could react in any way, she slugged him in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him and ultimately knocking him out. Out of pure spite, she bent over and kissed him on the cheek, leaving a burn mark. She crawled out from under the desk and stood up. The chief, who had taken a very long time to recover, lunged at her. She cackled and jumped out the window before he could reach her. She landed gracefully onto the pavement and began to run as fast as she could. Which was still pretty fast. The chief sighed and looked back at his deputies, who, trying to catch Burn when she had struggled free, had bashed their heads together and had knocked each other out.

"I always thought they were a bunch of hard heads," he said out loud. It was then that he noticed the mayor underneath his desk, lieing in a pool of blood gushing from the five gashes leading from his waist to his neck. "Dear sweet mother of Hecter!"

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**_That's it for right now. Sorry it was so gruesome, I had to get it out of my head! I don't know the chief's name, so if someone would be so kind as to tell me, I would greatly appreciate it. Thanks for reading!_**


	2. Chapter 2

"Yea, they are pretty stupid, huh?" Burn twisted her red hair around her finger, grinning. Her sharp, white teeth flashed in the dim light of the dock shed. She leaned back in her chair, her bare feet pushing against a table for support.

"Yes," a voiced hissed in the darkness just outside of the ring of light given off by the flickering lamp. "This shouldn't be too difficult for you, I suspect?" Burn waved away his question.

"Of course not," she said, her voice overflowing with confidence. "I've done stuff like this tons of times. Don't break your claw over it." She watched as a red hand shot out of the darkness and took her own. It played with the hawk shaped ring on her finger, twisting it.

"Good. I won't tolerate failure. _Again_." The voice sharpened, and the hand squeezed hers painfully. Burn yanked her hand away.

"You don't have to."

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Pain, just pain. That was all that was really on Spryman's mind as he leaned out of his window, looking down at the street below him. He rubbed his cheek where that burner (What was her name?) had kissed him, and shivered. It had creeped him out to no end when he found out she had done that, true, but... He didn't know. He just... felt... what? Exhilaration? The thought of her sent shivers up his spine, that was for sure. To him, it was one of the greatest mysteries of life at the moment. "Stupid hormones," he whispered harshly. Something crashed behind him. He whirled around, oddly expecting to see the burner. It was a stupid thought. No one was there, and nothing was broken, as if things weren't weird enough. Spryman cocked an eyebrow (do they even _have _eyebrows???) and began to turn back to the window.

"Yoohoo!!!" He froze. He hadn't heard it a lot, but he recognized the voice all right. He slowly peeked over the window sill, to see the burner waving up at him.

"Oh, Hecter! Not her again," he hissed under his breath. He glared back at her grinning face. "What do you want now? Shouldn't you be in jail?!" She shook her head as her grin grew wider. She bent her knees and jumped (a good couple of stories) to land on the window sill, directly in front of Spryman. He stepped back in surprise.

"Maybe. But, sweetheart, you need to get a physically fit police force. Those bozos down there are _slow_!" As if on cue, a chorus of sirens screamed down the street. "What a perfect way to prove a point," the burner exclaimed triumphantly. Spryman was still so disgusted from being called "sweetheart" that he hadn't completely digested the insult on his criminal justice force.

"Hey! I _hand picked _most of that police force!" Before the burner could muster a flaming retort, someone busted down the door and began yelling at her.

"FREEZE, BURNER!" A white blood cell shouted, shaking his gun in Burn's direction.

"Well, if that isn't the biggest oxymoron of the century," she said sarcastically.

"Excuse me, carbon-based life form, but you are under arrest for multiple assault

and battery accounts." A large red and yellow pill propelled himself into the room, aiming his right arm, which resembled a cannon, at Burn.

"Did you say that to be smart, or insulting? 'Cause, you know, you're a carbon-based life form too." Burn folded her arms. The pill gasped, sounding more or less like a bratty little girl that hadn't gotten her way for once.

"I am not!" He said indignantly. "I am an _acetaminophen _based life form!"

"Yea, and I'm Shurly Temple. Acetaminophen isn't even an element in the periodical table; it's your active ingredient, not what you're based of." Burn smirked in satisfaction at the pill's gaping mouth.

'You gotta hand it to her, Ozzy, the kid knows her stuff,' the white blood cell thought to himself. But, enough of intellectual bander, back to business! "Like Drix said, you're under arrest, burner! And...!"

"Hey!" Burn cut him off. "I _have _ a name!"

"Oh? And what may it be?" The pill, Drix, seemed genuinely intrigued to know this girl's name.

"It's Burn," she said proudly. Ozzy stifled a laugh, barely managing to stumble through his threat.

"Well snicker you'd better come with us downtown, or we're going to drag you out!"

"That's very nice of you to offer," Burn said nonchalantly, jumping off of the window sill, "But, I'll come _quite_ willingly." Drix lowered his arm, much to Ozzy's discontent.

"You will," he asked uncertainly.

"Defiantly," Burn answered cheerfully, carefully easing herself closer to the mayor. 'What a bunch of dopes!' She thought gleefully, easily keeping her fake smile in place. When she was close enough to do what she planned, she simply said, "I just have to commit one more offense..." She reached out with both hands and grabbed Spryman by the shoulders, pulling him to her. When she had one arm around his back and one hand holding his neck in place, she commenced in kissing him full on the lips.

He didn't struggle...much. How could he? What kind of reputation would he have if he tried to fight a girl? Honestly! Besides, he'd figured this girl out a while ago. She did what she was going to do, so he figured the best thing for him to do was to go along with it and get it over with. So, instead of fighting, he kissed her back. After all, is _was _ his first kiss; why shouldn't he at least try to enjoy it?

"Mmmm," Burn sighed as she pulled away. Still close enough for only him to hear, she whispered in his ear, "You're not bad. See ya around." She stepped back and walked between Ozzy and Drix, who were still too stunned to move. "Alrighty boys! Escort me to the police station."


	3. Chapter 3

_**So I'm back with another installment. This is probably going to go a little differently that I originally thought. Whatever, isn't that how most stories come into being anyway?......**_

_**P.S.: The stuff in italics is usually thoughts, unless it's just one word, then it's only for emphasis. And anything in bold italics (other than this) is a flashback.**_

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"Bored, bored, bored, so very _bored!!!!_" It was easy for anyone to see that Burn was rather bored. She stretched and yawned until her jaw popped. Fake screams of pain reverberated through the jail hall. The jailer, standing near the entrance to the prison, winced as the shrill shriek embedded itself into his head.

"Hey," he tried to yell above the din she was making. Burn stopped screaming and cocked her head to one side, eager to hear what the jailer had to say. It seemed she was, anyway. "Pipe down," the jailer growled. As if he didn't have enough on his plate already, the mayor's cronies decide to put him in charge of a wackjob.

"Wow," Burn mocked, "What an enthralling response." She poked her head through the bars and addressed him again. "You know, you should really complain to the mayor." The jailer's ear perked. Maybe this kid wasn't so bad after all.

"Why?"

"Because," Burn responded gleefully, (_'Someone to talk to, yippee!' she thought joyfully_) "A person as small as me could just slip out of these bars and walk right on out, that's why!"

"Really," the jailer replied, enthused. "If that's the case, then why don't you just leave?"

"Well," Burn rolled her eyes upward and touched her forefinger to her chin, "First off, I would have to get past the guard, who, might I add, is in top physical condition." She looked pointedly at his protruding gut before continuing. "And to tell you the truth, I prefer going out with a bang!" She slammed her hands together to accentuate her point. The jailer snorted and turned away.

"That was rather obvious." A giant red-and-yellow pill propelled himself into the corridor, a frown etched into his normally placid features. After handing a thin manila folder to the guard, he glided toward Burn with little enthusiasm. "I see you've made yourself comfortable?" He glared at the broken cot in the corner of the room and the claw marks on the walls.

"Absatively posalutely!" Burn happily responded.

"You do realize that it is considered quite rude to destroy public property?" Drix folded his arms across his massive chest.

"This is public?" Burn looked around theoretically. "And I thought I was special enough to be sent somewhere private!" She grinned mischievously at Drix.

"Oh, honestly, you are so obnoxious!"

"And I enjoy every minute of it!" Burn giggled at his scowling face.

"So I see." He sighed. "Do you think you could be good enough to be transported?" he asked sarcastically.

"Depends," she answered lightly, "where are you transporting me?"

"The police station--"

"Did you knock me out???" Burn interrupted him.

"What?" Drix asked incredulously.

"I thought I was in the police station! So I really am in jail???"

"You're in a _jail cell_. Didn't that give you a clue?" Ozzy strolled in.

"There are jail cells in police stations." Burn responded coolly. "Well, they're actually called holding cells, but still," she added calmly. "So," she perked up, "how's my sweetie?" She leaned forward, a tiny glint in her eyes and a twitch of a smirk on her lips.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Ozzy murmured. "Are you gonna come on or what?" he asked loudly.

"Fine, fine, yeesh." Burn passively held up her wrists, her hands slack.

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Chief Gluteus was waiting for them as they walked through the door to the police station. "It's about time, Jones!" he snarled. The pain from Burn's bite marks was beginning to get to him, so he wasn't in a very forgiving mood. Burn glanced at Gluteus' red-raw neck. She turned quickly away, a frown darkening her brow.

"You should put some cellulose on that; it'll help," she whispered. Gluteus acted like he didn't hear her, but he put the information away for later.

'_Why not?' _he thought, _'It can't get much worse.'_ "We need to process you," he said aloud darkly.

"Fine," Burn grumbled. She let Ozzy and Drix lead her away quietly.

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He toyed with the lamp, twisting the bulb between two claws. "She's been caught?" he hissed. The small germ opposite him nodded nervously. The red virus grinned. "Not to worry; she's been caught before." He glared at the germ. "Get out." The germ didn't wait to be told twice. He hustled out as fast as he could. '_So_,' the virus thought bitterly, '_I have my father's mood swings too.'_

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Burn was stretched out, quiet, thinking. The holding cell she occupied was a great deal cleaner than the cell she had previously been in, but she didn't notice. She had a lot on her mind.

_**"It's very simple," he stated matter-of-factly. Burn merely stared at him. "Just get the mayor on your side," he continued, "and then bring him here."**_

_**"What will we do with him?" Burn asked. Her partner smirked.**_

_**"You'll see," he replied, an evil glint in his eyes.**_

__Yeah, well, now she _didn't_ want to see. This Spryman kid was cute; she didn't exactly want to see him maimed or anything like that. But, then again, she couldn't go against what her partner had said. It was out of the question. Certainly, though, she could figure out a way to protect Spryman _and _appease the boss?

She shook her head. _'Dilemmas, dilemmas.' _She glanced out the window. _'Oh, right, I'm supposed to bust out right about now.' _She made her way to the window, careful to keep the guard's eyes away from her. It wasn't too hard; he was asleep. Burn smirked. _'Too easy,' _she thought. That is, until a.... complication walked through the door.

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Spryman burst through the door, scaring the guard awake. "M-mayor!" the guard spluttered (which made Spryman chuckle a little in his head.)

"I want to talk to B... the burner," he declared. When the guard didn't move, he added, "Alone." The guard nodded and walked slowly past Spryman, looking back at the mayor as he stood in the doorway. Spryman slammed the door in his face.

"Why didn't you use my name?" Spryman jumped. He turned to address Burn.

"I don't want them thinking that I know you too well," he said, shrugging. "Apparently knowing a cri...." he caught himself as he saw the look on Burn's face. She snorted.

"Why are you here, anyway," she spat. He looked down.

"I told them I was going to interrogate you, which is true, a little." He frowned. "And you don't have to be so mean about it," he added quietly. Burn relaxed her brow a little. She held out her hand, inviting him over to her. He stayed rooted to the spot. Burn let her hand drop.

"Well," she sighed, "what do you want to know?" He shuffled awkwardly.

"Well, I, um, see...." He glanced toward her. She was smiling with a little emotion in her eyes. Pity? He would have none of it! "Why did you kiss me?! Twice!" he finally burst. He slammed his hand over his mouth.

"I'm guessing that's not exactly the way you wanted to say it?" Burn giggled. He wouldn't look at her. "If you come over here, I'll tell you." Spryman eyed her suspiciously, then cautiously walked over to her. She smiled. "Come _here_" Against his better judgment, Spryman leaned slowly forward. He then noticed how short she was; he was almost a head taller...

Burn reached up and kissed him on the lips. "Gah!" He leaped backwards, a stricken look on his face. Burn laughed hysterically. "Your face is _priceless_!" she squealed.

"Do you _have _to do that?!" Spryman glared at her.

"Maybe," she replied, giving him a wink. Spryman sighed inwardly.

_'Why does she have to be so cute? It's not fair!' _

"Now then," she continued, "why do you want to know?" Spryman didn't have an answer. "I've noticed something," she said, switching the subject.

"What?"

"Well, I was just thinking, is 'Spryman' your first name? 'Cuz everyone just refers to you as 'Mayor' or 'Mayor Spryman.'"

"No, it's not my first name." he responded.

"Oh! Then what is it?!" She grinned mischievously. He gave her the same grin.

"Guess it," he said.

"Oh, oh!" she exclaimed, bouncing up and down. "Fine then. Um, John?"  
"No, but it is a four letter word."

"That narrows it down. How about..... Saul?"  
"What? NO. But close."

"Paul!" Spryman (Paul) stared at her quizzically.

"How did you guess it so quickly? And where did you come up with 'Saul'?"

"Has Hector never read the Bible?" she asked. Spryman shook his head.

"Not really..."

"Oh, well, I burned this Christian once, and she was doing a Bible study on how Saul became Paul. And it was one of the only four letter names I could think of." She smiled at him. "Paul Spryman. I like it." He blushed a deep red and looked away.

"S-so," he stuttered, "Is 'Burn' your only name?"

"No." she said.

"Am I going to have to guess it?" Burn laughed at him.

"No, I'll just tell you." She looked him straight in the eye and fluttered her eyelashes. He inhaled sharply and turned away again. "Fyaira," she said dreamily.

"Fyaira," Spryman repeated, turning toward her. "It's pretty."

"Oh, Mr. Mayor, are you flirting with me???" Burn giggled as Spryman went from strawberry pink to tomato red. "Aww," she crooned, "I was just playing with you. Please come over here? I promise I won't do anything to you." He stood stubbornly where he was, even going as far as to cross his arms. "Alright!" Burn declared, "I'll just come to you then." She then commenced to slide through the bars of the holding cell. Spryman stared open-mouthed.

"How did you do that? I thought only white blood cells could do that!"

"You learn something new everyday," Burn said. She walked over to him while she was talking. Her hands slipped into his as she stood on her toes until they were nose-to-nose. "So," she whispered, "you wanted to know why I kissed you."

He nodded, his face burning. She took her hands out of his, wrapped her arms around his waist, and leaned her head on his chest. "Because," she sighed.

Spryman stood stunned for a minute, then he circled his arms around her in a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. _'She smells good,' _he thought.

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_**I thought that was a sweet place to end. ^_^ Whoa, I think it's been two years since I last updated. Oh my. Hopefully it won't take me that long again.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_** I was just thinking this as I re-read my last chapter: what? In reference to the hair comment. I mean, it's not really hair, but saying hair sounds better than saying "membrane", which is what it actually is (I'm assuming.) So, yeah, I just thought I'd let you in on my little mental drama (because it was dramatic in my head!) And I've decided to stick with calling it "hair", because it just keeps my rhythm smooth. You know, the whole one-syllable two-syllable conflict some picky authors deal with all the time. If you don't know what I'm talking about, it just means that you're not OCD. So no worries. Enjoy! Oh, I was also wondering if anyone minded me referring to Spryman as "Paul" now, just because it's easier on my hands?**_

Paul frowned and murmured something into Burn's hair (_**haha, three cheers for artistic liberty!**_)

"Say what?" She giggled. Paul moved his mouth to her ear.

"I was just thinking," he whispered, "that you can be so sweet; why do you have to be bad? It's not fair." Burn smiled, brought her hands up to cradle his face and moved his head until she was looking directly at him.

"First of all, where's the fun in fair?" She asked. "And secondly, who says I'm bad?" Paul gave her a confused look.

"You're in jail." He said pointedly. Burn shook her head.

"That doesn't mean I've done anything to warrant it." She answered. "The police just assumed that I had." Paul smiled slightly and put his nose to hers.

"Assault and battery." He laughed. She tickled him.

"Of you! But, did you ask to have me arrested?"

"Nope!"

"Then why am I in here?" She asked, feigning exasperation. He laughed again.

"How would I know?" And this time, he kissed her. He didn't really know why he did it; it was just impulse. Just a beautiful impulse. Burn nearly melted in his arms.

'_Oh, no.'_ she thought. _'Not good.' _ It was then that Chief Gluteus stormed in, the guard waiting anxiously behind him.

The Chief had not had a good day. He had already apprehended and disposed of two burners before Osmosis and Drix had brought in that crazy one, whats-her-name, Burn. This sunburn was really beginning to wear down his nerves. He even caught himself thinking '_I need a vacation,_' while filling out Burn's paperwork (something that Carl in filing should have been doing.) So, he was at the end of his rope; he couldn't take any more nonsense! And he had walked in on this! The Mayor _kissing_ the crazy burner (and no, it was not the other way around, not this time!) It was just too much to handle. So, he exploded.

"JUST _WHAT _DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" The shout sent lightning bolts through Paul's brain.

'_Oh..._' He didn't finish his thought, he simply whispered harshly into Burn's ear, "Get out!" and pushed her toward the window. He knew the chief wouldn't understand, so he had to get Burn away as fast as possible. She was reluctant, but, knowing that it would be a bad idea to stay, leaped through the window and sprinted down the sidewalk. Paul sighed inwardly, regretting losing the moment, but happy that she had escaped.

Chief Gluteus stood and watched the escapade, stunned and furious. After witnessing Burn leaving, he came to his senses and ordered the guard to get backup and chase her down. "Put her in a straight jacket if you have too!" He yelled. The guard bounded away. Focusing all his fury on the Mayor, the Chief turned and slowly walked to Paul. He folded his arms and stood glaring down at the teenager. "Not to undermine your authority," he hissed, towering over Paul, "but what was _that?_" Paul glared up at him, equally vehement.

"I didn't tell you to arrest her," he growled, crossing his own arms. The image was quite ridiculous: a midget staring down a giant. Anyone walking in might have laughed out loud, save for the tangible tension and hostility in the room. It didn't get any better as the following argument progressed.

Burn went straight to the docks, looking for her boss. It was really to report an advancement in her relationship with the Mayor, and to sign her resignation. She couldn't do this anymore.

She knocked (not wanting to be impolite.) The virus ushered her in.

"Ah, Burn my dear, how have you been?" He asked genteelly. She looked fixedly at the floor.

"Well, I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

"Good; bring up my spirits, girl." Burn shuffled uncomfortably. "Why don't you come closer?" the virus asked, noting her discomfort. He indicated a chair next to him. Burn remained where she was. The virus frowned. "Come _here_," he growled. She obeyed, noting the irony in the situation. The parallelisms between her current situation and her previous interaction with the Mayor were uncanny. Of course, that had be a pleasant situation; this was not.

She sat rigidly, as far away from him as she could. He smirked, satisfied. "So, what is this good news?" he asked, leaning back contently in his own chair.

Burn bit her lip. "He kissed me." The virus leaped forward and grabbed her arm.

"This is excellent!" He whispered excitedly. Burn tried to swallow her disgust at seeing the evil glee in his eyes. "He's fallen for you! My girl, you are truly amazing!" He leaned back again, his hand still clasping her arm. "What could be bad news after hearing that?" He closed his eyes and cackled happily. Burn looked away. The trek from the police station to the docks was a long one; she had had plenty of time to think.

She knew from the moment Paul kissed her that she could no longer aid in his harm (for she now knew that that was what the virus had been planning; he wasn't exactly subtle.) No, she had that figured out perfectly; that had not been where her thoughts had lingered. She needed to know _why_. Why had that kiss caused such a strong feeling in her? It shouldn't have mattered. It never had before. Then again, she had always done the kissing. Maybe that's what was different? But no, that couldn't have been it, because he had always kissed back (well, almost always.) No, it was something else. But what?

She looked back at her boss, leaning back in his chair again with his eyes closed. She still didn't understand the why, but she had made up her mind. She was going to quit.

"Why did you arrest her?" Paul yelled.

"Because she's a burner!" The Chief yelled back.

"So? That doesn't mean anything!"

"They're cellicidal maniacs!"

"SHE'S NOT!"

"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?"

The two screamed back and forth at each other, each telling the other he was wrong, wrong, wrong!

"Do you even have evidence against her? What happened to "innocent until proven guilty?""

"We were forced to ignore that during this outbreak! There were so many of the burners; differentiating would have allowed some of the more cunning ones to get away!"

"So, you've basically enacted genocide!" The two continued to glare at each other, the other guard trembling in fright. Why was he even in this room? He left. No one noticed.

She slowly pushed herself up on her knees, bleary eyed and beyond dazed. Her left eye was tender, gashes ran the length of her spine, and she had a sneaking feeling that her mouth resembled ground meat. As her vision faded, Burn decided that it might be best to remain on the dock for a while.


	5. Chapter 5

_**I take forever to update. I really do. Fail. Oh! But I do love how my writing in this story is getting progressively non-suckish! So, yay for that!**_

Why was her face throbbing? Surely she hadn't hit her nose on the headboard of her bed, again? Her eyelids remained closed, red pulsations in front of her vision, as she slowly greeted consciousness. Vaguely aware of a conversation to her left, her ears strained to break through the murk of sleep.

"Watch her; she isn't to leave or have any outside contact until this misunderstanding is sorted out. Am I understood?"

A door slammed, disrupting the pulse behind her eyes and pulling her out of her fog. Ropes bound her wrists and ankles, she noted grimly. Slowly opening her eyes a crack, she surveyed her surroundings.

It was his room...

She was on his bed...

In_ his _room...

_ Tied up on his bed!_

As she desperately tried to quell the rising panic in her chest, she continued to gaze around the room. The guard was a short, stocky pig of a germ, with thick arms and a barrel chest. He glared resolutely in her general direction, his arms folded.

What to do about him?

Burn tried discreetly looking for some kind of weapon, slowly twisting her arms around on the bed, feeling for anything that would be of any use. It was only after about two minutes of this that she realized no one would leave any sharp object near a tied prisoner. Perhaps she was still half asleep. Mentally cursing her stupidity, she turned on her other side, her back to the guard.

"Don't try it." The gruff voice froze the blood in her veins. She knew him.

_ Tattaptat. _Paul was known to be a habitually nervous person; downright cowardly, in some hidden opinions. However, his pencil wasn't dancing a jig across his unfinished paperwork because of nervousness. He was annoyed, frustrated, furious over Chief Gluteus's enactment of the "Burn Notice," a policy that publicly identified and called for the extermination of any burners left in Hector's system. The notice gave citizens a license to kill on sight, an abhorrent add-on the chief somehow managed to slip past the Police Committee, who were rushed into signing the document by virtual lynch mobs clustered around their building. Fyaira hadn't been seen for two days now; he worried that she might be found by the wrong person, her unawareness of the notice a particularly concerning bullet-point. A blurry picture of her face, captured by a curious onlooker during one of her escapes, had been blown up and plastered on every available surface in Hector. Although encouraged by the lacking quality of the shot, Paul still fretted over the distinguishing features that could still be seen, her eye color his main anxiety.

His pencil continuing to dance, Paul faded in and out of the inane speech his advisers were giving him as he thought of ways to find Fyaira quietly.

Temperature, normal. Sleep schedule, getting better. Surface temperature, decreasing, thanks to the Burn Notice (Paul scowled.) Hormone regulation, a little out of whack, but that's puberty for you.

The two cells continued rattling off Hector's bodily functions as Paul turned his back to them and gazed out the window. He watched citizens amble about below; he watched dogs chase each other and fight for scraps; he watched a poster of Fyaira bob in the wind, watched as it was finally freed from its moorings and sent fluttering away by a strong gust. His gut wrenched.

"I'm going out," he announced, interrupting the cells' drivel.

"But, sir!" The lanky one exclaimed. "You must stay to hear-!" Paul's glare cut him off mid-sentence. Turning away, Paul left, slamming the door behind him. The lanky one shivered. "Since when is he so _moody_?"

The fat one glanced at his clipboard. "Must be the hormone imbalance we covered on page twenty-three."

Fyaira stared at her reflection in the storefront window, aghast. Fading; she was fading already. Her normal lusty red skin was now dulled to a pale rose color; the steely blue was being leeched from her eyes, leaving a mocking gray sea-water in it's wake. Her stint in the boss's holding cell had done nothing to improve her appearance either; it left her haggard and tired-looking. Finally, she tore her gaze away from her withering figure and continued walking, rubbing the fresh bruises on her arms.

As the docks and dilapidated stores behind her faded into the distance, Fyaira slowly entered a large city. She froze, shocked and confused. Her own face stared back at her from a wanted poster stapled to a pole. She tore it off and ducked into an alley. Quickly scanning the article underneath her picture in the semi-darkness, Fyaira began to shake uncontrollably, her fingers eventually letting the poster fall to the ground. Panic set in. She needed a place to hide, now! No, no wait, she needed to find Paul; that's what she needed to do. But, how? She couldn't exactly waltz into his office, now that all of Hector was after her head. The stress of being imprisoned and repeatedly tortured for the past two days, along with the horrible compromise she had to make and this new development, came crashing down onto her shoulders. She fell to her knees, dejected, and sobbed.

It had been hours since Paul began his search, and the melatonin would soon be pumped into Hector's veins, bringing nightfall. He stood on the sand, facing a lake of bile, and felt sick. No one had seen Fyaira, for which he was at once grateful and terrified. For now, he knew no one had killed her, a small comfort in a sea of worry. He sighed.

"Well, just standing here isn't going to find her," he hissed to himself. "Alright, I started at the top and got here, the stomach. That leaves the entire lower half of Hector." He rubbed his temples. What if he couldn't find her? What would he do then?

"No!" He shouted defiantly. "I'll find her, even if it kills me!"

"Not the best thing to be shouting in a place like this."

Paul whirled around to find an elderly, hunched blood cell in a hooded cloak standing behind him. "What?"

The woman gave him a toothy grin under her hood, her bare toes scrunching the sand under her feet. She jerked her head right. Paul followed the movement to see a line of old warehouses and stores standing on a dock a little ways down the beach. "Bad company resides there," the woman said conspiratorially. Paul nodded in agreement; the dock was the perfectly clichèd villains' lair.

"Thank you for the warning," he said to her. The woman smiled again.

"I hear you're looking for someone," she stated. "And who might that be?"

Paul eyed her warily for a moment, contemplating. She seemed harmless enough, and she had giving him some sound advice. Perhaps she could be trusted. He pulled a folded wanted poster out of his pocket.

"I'm looking for her," he said, pointing to Fyaira's picture.

"How lovely," the woman crooned, taking the poster into her gnarled red hands. "I remember seeing a girl like this." Paul inhaled sharply.

"Really? Where? When? Please, tell me!"

The woman patted Paul's arm, attempting to calm him. "Over there," she pointed to the dock, "About two days ago." Paul's face fell. "However, I saw someone resembling her leave there about an hour ago, in that direction," she pointed back toward the city. "You might catch her if you take the dock road." Paul thanked her profusely and went sprinting toward the road. The old woman chuckled to herself and shuffled away.

She stared, her mouth agape. Paul stood before her, bent double and panting frantically. He gave her a toothy grin. "I've found you!" He shouted triumphantly. Quickly shushing him, Fyaira's mouth turned up into a smile behind her finger.

"So you have," she whispered, relief coursing through her frame. "The question is: how?" Paul responded by pulling her into a bone-crushing hug.

"You're alright; I'm so happy you're alright," he mumbled into her hair, desperately clinging to her fragile form, afraid she might slip away again.

Returning his embrace, Fyaira wondered if he had noticed the difference in her. She gently pulled away.

"What happened to you?" Paul asked, his initial excitement fading as he noticed her poor condition. Fyaira smiled.

"I'm just fading, that's all," she replied playfully, "It happens to all burners eventually." She considered mentioning her unwilling foray into captivity somewhat tactless and unnecessary, and so kept it to herself. "Now," she poked his chest, "Answer my question."

Paul puzzled for a moment, trying to remember what she had asked. "An old blood cell told me," he said hesitantly. "She said she had seen someone like you head in this direction. It was just luck from then on."

Fyaira bristled. "Blood cell?" Paul nodded. Suspicion crawling up her back, Fyaira began to look around frantically, terrified. "Paul," she whispered fiercely, "We need to..." Quick, successive blows to their necks and heads prevented Fyaira from finishing her sentence and Paul from hearing it.

_**Ok, I copped out. This could have been so much longer, but I REALLY wanted to end it and post it. I haven't posted in so long! Also, apparently, people like this? -sobs appreciatively- You're all so wonderful!**_


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